Bottlecap Bruises
by Coffee and Cyanide
Summary: Luna. Neville. St. Mungo's and comfort in a very Lunaway.


Bottlecap Bruises

Luna wasn't fond of the color white, nor the scalloped ceiling that seemed to sag more than possible. She didn't like the way there were faces in the doorknobs and voices at the keyholes. Luna knew that she was going to see her mother again, she knew that the dead who stayed dead were better than those who tried to walk. She hadn't known about the dead who never died, but with her ear to the floor, eyes on the crack under a door, she saw.

Neville Longbottom had a green spot on his shoes. Luna had seen it when he had entered the room. She kept her eye on it, sliding to her knees against the door to bend down and follow the green spot across the floor. Her hair pooled on the stone, and her fingers tried to dig into the too clean floors of St. Mungo's. She didn't need the keyhole to tell her what was being said. There was the one-two of uneven walking, the shuffle of feet on the floor.

"Hey, mum" The voice never fell to the floor, it bounced off of walls and ears. Luna barely caught it, between the shuffling of feet that ran across her temples. "It's me, again… Neville," The name was rolled, dropped, picked up and caressed by careless tongues. The rustle of cloth on cloth. The sound of skin rubbing against walls and clothes and the image of people leaning on each other was brought to mind. There was a one-two, one-two of uneven steps, the out of time humming that accompanied the odd gait. If she listened close enough she could hear fingertips on palms, vague attempts of remembering.

Not all music was beautiful.

Sometimes it was heartbreaking.

Luna tugged herself away from the floor and its perfect smoothness. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging out the strands of arachplanger's silk out of her hair, absently she reminded herself to check her fingers for arachphlanger eggs. Digits clean, the wall became her shoulder to lean on, skull resting on stone.

Neville hated St. Mungo's. He hated the way it smelled, the way it looked, the way people would smile sympathetically when he went in. He hated the way that both his parents would smile and nod at them and then converse and in not very quiet whispers about who he was. He clutched the bubble gum wrappers tightly in his left fist, even the hallway's gentle noise wasn't comforting. It didn't cover up the screams and cries of the people two rooms down, or the fact that he could still hear his parents in his head.

"You're stepping on the cracks." A spacey voice drifted in between the silence and the noise and Luna Lovegood appeared at his elbow. She mirrored his step, except she widened the stride, toes delicately stepping over cracks he didn't see in the floor.

"…uh, excuse me?" Neville asked, knowing his voice sounded miserable and not caring. Luna slid her arm through the gap left by his elbow, linking arms with him.

"You're stepping on the cracks," She said again and widened his stride once again. He had to copy her, or let go of her arm, and at the moment a little human touch, even one as insubstantial as Luna could be, was craved. Neville looked down, trying to find the cracks she was talking about. St. Mungo's floor was the same smooth, dull surface it had always been. "…like this." And Luna tugged him outside. She took a deep breath, and her large eyes asked him to do the same.

Neville inhaled. Maybe he could blame the wind for his burning eyes.

"Why're you here?" A look over at Luna. Their arms were still linked, but her eyes were shut and she was smiling into the East.

"To see it again." Luna counted herself lucky. Death had taken her mother swiftly, death had surely lead her mother down a path. She knew where her mother was. Sometimes, she came to St. Mungo's, just to remind herself of that. "…take a breath." The thin smile that was too big and too skinny for her face was infectious and Neville couldn't help but smile back.

"See it, again?" Neville asked after a deep inhale. Somehow, he felt better.

"…strength," He might have imagined the word, because he was sure her smile didn't falter. He was sure her lips didn't move, but he felt her ribs ache outwards as she inhaled deeply again. Then she slipped her arm from his, pulled her warmth away from his side. Luna turned slowly letting the window blow her hair across her face and didn't bother to try and tame it with her fingers.

"Luna?" Neville tucked both his hands into his pockets, "…thanks."

She didn't answer, one-two she sidestepped over and stuck her hand into his left pocket. A sharp edges piece of aluminum rolled against his knuckles. A bottlecap. He released the gumwrappers to clench his fist around it, feel the grooves indent into his palm. Their knuckles gently bumped.

"For luck."


End file.
